As proof for my recent assertion about the failing health of Roger Ebert’s weekly film criticism, I offer his review of Super Size Me, which belongs in the food or health section instead of entertainment and can barely be bothered with discussing the movie.
I agree with Roger Ebert’s assessment of Errol Morris’ Gates of Heaven as “bottomless,” with the disclaimer that it’s as much a function of the movie’s open-ended nature as its depth. The filmmaker’s debut has no clearly articulated subject or thesis, and it’s so wide-ranging, with so little guidance from Morris, that its effect and meaning will depend a lot on who watches it and where they are in life. Plus: People I Know and Invincible.
Errol Morris and Werner Herzog sat together in the back of the auditorium, watching Morris’ first movie, Gates of Heaven, with 1,600 other people. Al Pacino joined us by phone, the day before his 64th birthday. American Movie’s lovably clueless protagonists, Mark Borchardt and Mike Schank, were introduced just minutes before Herzog. This was our April 24 immersion in the sixth annual Ebertfest, also known as Roger Ebert’s Overlooked Film Festival.
On paper, Shattered Glass sounds like an earnest bore. It’s the now-familiar story of Stephen Glass, a writer for The New Republic who in the late 1990s made a bunch of shit up in his articles. Oh, the stuff of great cinema! Yet the film is amazingly peppy, smart, and light. It might be the most fun you’ll ever have watching a movie that’s good for you.
I’m not a big fan of the online magazine Salon – it’s so knee-jerk liberal that it’s offensive to thoughtful people, preachy to the choir of loyal leftists, and easily dismissed by conservatives. But today’s edition includes three interesting pieces.
21 Grams is a beautifully made formal exercise – a story chopped up into so many bits that the audience spends almost all of its energy putting the pieces together. But the structure is so overpowering that it’s difficult to evaluate the content; one viewing suggests the narrative is too under-developed to survive scrutiny or a linear telling.
What, exactly, is one supposed to get from Errol Morris’ latest movie, The Fog of War, winner of this year’s Oscar for best documentary? This feature-length interview with Robert McNamara – secretary of defense in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations – is more mirror than painting, allowing many critics to read into it exactly what they bring in. It’s a curious effect, but not entirely surprising.
My dictionary says a requiem is a musical composition or somber chant in honor of the dead, but Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream is more like a howl of pain that builds slowly over 100 minutes to an intensity that’s nearly impossible to bear.
The founder of Decent Films has started a discussion on my recent rant “The Morality of Movies.” The people who have posted so far make some interesting and valid points. Worth checking out.
I’ve been fascinated for a few months by the cleverly titled Web site Decent Films, whose slogan is “film appreciation, information, and criticism informed by Christian faith.” The site has an abundance of thoughtful writing about movies, and it’s frequently clever and funny. Still, there’s something disturbing about it.